's  Garten 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN   LOVE'S  GARDEN 
AND  OTHER  VERSES 


THIS    IS    THE    AUTHOR'S 
AUTOGRAPHED  EDITION 


In  Love's  Garden 

And  Other  Verses 

Ida  Frances  Anderson 


ARROYO    GUILD    PRESS 
LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA 


Copyright,  1909,  by 

IDA  FRANCES  ANDERSON 

Pasadena,  California 


PS 


CONTENTS 


Introduction     9 

The  Heart  and  Its  Message 15 

IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 

Love's  Garden 19 

Love's   Conquest 20 

Love's     Spirit-Image 21 

Love's    Pride 22 

Love's     Message 23 

Love's    Kiss 24 

Love's    Dream 25 

Love's    Trembling   Joy 26 

Love's    Day 27 

Love's  Flowers 28 

Love  Ungathered 29 

Love's   Ashes SO 

Love's  Refusal 32 

Love's  Waiting 33 

Love's   Cost 34 

Love's  Pranks 35 

Love's  Discovery 37 

Love's  Dawn 38 

Love's  Despair 4O 

Love's  Hope 4O 

Love's  Unheeded  Language 41 

Love's  Phantom  Sorrow 41 

Love's  Joy 42 

Love's  Expectation 43 

Love's  Eyes 44 

Love's  Remembrance 45 

Love's  Measure 40 

Love's  Presence 47 

Love's  Longing 48 

Love's  Way 49 

Love's   Choice 51 

Love's  Pear 54 

Love's  Late  Coming 55 

Love's  Desperation 50 


OR  many  years  I  have  believed 
and  taught  that  California 
was  destined  to  become  the 
radiating  center  of  the  artis 
tic,  literary  and  inspirational 
powers  of  the  world.  I  have 
contended  that  the  freedom 
of  the  West  was  one  of  the 
essential  conditions  for  the 
highest  and  best  development.  The  soul  of 
man  must  have  absolutely  free  course  to  ex 
press  itself,  regardless  of  rules,  conventions 
and  restrictions.  The  soul  only  is  of  God — 
godlike; — rules,  restrictions,  conventions,  are 
inventions  of  man,  and  while  they  often  appear 
good,  they  also  often  do  much  harm. 

In  this  age  of  conventionality  and  fear  to 
do  anything  different  from  the  accepted  stand 
ard,  it  is  a  delight  and  a  gratification  to  me  to 
meet  with  work  that  shows  power  and  free 
dom,  and  a  complete  ignoring  of  all  conven 
tional  rules.  In  her  verses  Miss  Anderson  has 
cared  for  neither  rhyme  nor  rythm.  She  has 


had  something  to  say,  however,  that  was  worth 
the  saying,  and  that  is  well  worth  the  world's 
hearing.  But  the  reader  who  expects  to  find 
ordinary  poems,  set  to  the  music  of  jingling 
rhymes,  will  lay  the  book  down,  disappointed. 
In  form  these  verses  are  purely  individualistic, 
— more  so  even  than  Walt  Whitman's.  Yet 
there  is  a  spontaneity  to  them,  and  a  rythmic 
quality  that  recalls  the  improvisations  of  the 
old  Saxon  skalds,  or  the  singers  of  the  Sagas, 
a  primitive  power  of  utterance  that  is  both 
tuneful  and  dignified.  Anything  in  our  com 
plex  civilization  that  denotes  a  return  to  the 
simple,  the  primitive,  the  genuine,  the  un 
affected; — anything  that  is  absolutely  free 
from  the  taint  of  the  conventional,  is  espe 
cially  welcome  to  me,  because  of  what  I  be 
lieve  to  be  its  leavening  influence  in  the  world. 
We  are  all  the  while  saying  what  the  world  ex 
pects  us  to  say,  in  the  words  the  world  has 
chosen  we  shall  say  our  thoughts  in,  run  into 
certain  set  moulds.  Here  conies  a  young 
woman,  who,  without  blare  of  trumpets,  or 

10 


shriek  of  defiance,  calmly,  quietly,  and  se 
renely,  because  thoroughly  conscious  of  her 
God-given  right,  says  exactly  what  she  feels 
in  exactly  her  own  way.  Not  one  word  too 
many  or  one  too  few,  in  order  to  conform  to  the 
rules  of  rhyme  and  meter.  Indeed,  as  one  has 
already  said  of  her  verse :  "It  is  as  if  a  woman 
of  mature  years,  with  exalted  conceptions  of 
life,  her  youthful  ideals  retained  in  all  their 
sweet,  full  freshness,  has  expressed  her  inmost 
thoughts  with  remarkable  clarity  and  precision, 
yet  with  the  quiet,  powerful  and  fearless  lan 
guage  of  a  precocious  child." 

I  have  prevailed  upon  Miss  Anderson  to 
allow  me  to  use  as  her  introduction  a  few 
verses,  entitled  "The  Heart,"  which  she 
brought  to  me  as  her  own  spontaneous  expla 
nation  of  the  "why"  of  the  apparent  formless 
ness  of  her  verse,  and  her  refusal  to  obey  the 
conventions  of  prosody.  It  is  worthy  a  careful 
perusal  and  long  consideration. 

Anyhow,  for  what  they  are  these  pages  are 
now  given  to  the  public.  Their  author  has 

11 


INTRODUCTION 


already  expressed  in  "Man's  God-like  Gift," 
her  calm  acquiescence  and  acceptance  of  "the 
worst  man  may  do."  So  with  both  pleasure 
and  fearlessness  I  now  commend  them  to  all 
who  value  a  free,  spontaneous,  natural  expres 
sion  of  the  inner  feelings  and  thoughts  of  a 
singularly  pure,  clear,  transparent  soul. 

GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES. 
Pasadena,  October  1,  1909. 


12 


THE  HEART  AND  ITS  MESSAGE 


s% 


OW  can  we  measure  the  heart, 
By  line  or  rhyme? 
Its  rythmic  beats  not  set  to 

time 

Of  man's  device ; 
Now  fast,  now  slow,  they 

move; 

Now  stop  for  pause: 
E'en  as  the  rythm  of  the  wave 


That  pulses  free,  unmeasured, 

Careless  now  to  lose  a  beat, 

Careless  now  to  measure  full, 

But  following  true  its  own  great  law. 

O  heart,  shouldst  thou  be  less? 

Hast  thou  no  great  law  of  thine  own? 

Must  the  exact  mind 

Measure  thy  beats  by  foot  and  line 

And  cast  thee  in  a  mould  of  rhyme, — 

Thou,  untamed  and  free? 

Not  so !    Yet  many  are  the  man-made  rules, 

To  twist  thee  out  of  shape, 

So  that  we  know  thee  not. 

When  thou  art  done  thy  voice, 

Rule  would  add  another  sound 


is 


To  fill  the  place  prescribed. 
When  thou  wouldst  pour  another  note 
To  ease  thy  burdened  self, 
"Stop!"  she  cries, 
"It  is  enough,  the  line  is  full!" 
And  when  thou  wouldst  cry  this, 
"Cry  that,"  she  says, 
"To  make  these  sounds  the  same 
There  must  be  two  or  more 
All  dressed  alike." 
O  heart,  full  heart, 
How  canst  express  thyself, — 
Thou  loved  offspring  of  the  muse, 
Fcrever  wild  and  free, 
That  no  man  holds 
To  tame  and  harness  thee, 
But  thou  escapst,  heaven-helped, 
And  leavst  thy  shadow  in  the  place? 
Glad  am  I  thou  of  heaven  art, 
And  rules  prescribed  by  man, 
If  thou  must  brook, 
Thyself  thou  drawest  hence, 
And  leavst  dead  words  in  thine  untenanted 
home. 

16 


IN  LOVES  GARDEN  AND  OTHER  VERSES 


LOVE'S  GARDEN  ^ 

N  this  garden  Love's  fair 

flowers 
Bloom  apace, 
As  they  spring  forth  from 

the  heart, 
Their  root  and  chief 

resource. 
Fadeless  flowers, 
Born  of  hours 
In  Love's  life. 


Walk  you  in  this  garden, 
Your  own  garden. 
Live  these  hours, 
See  these  flowers 
Face  to  face; 
Your  own  hours, 
Your  own  flowers. 


19 


LOVE'S   CONQUEST 

Love  came  soft 

When  sleep  was  on, 

And  stole  a  look, 

And  left  a  kiss 

On  his  closed  eyelids. 

Then  softly  did  she  leave, 

As  softly  as  she  came. 

The  kiss  did  sink  into  those  orbs  of  blue, 

And  wrought  a  vision  there. 

Again  Love  came, 

And  stole  a  look, 

And  left  a  kiss 

On  his  dew'd  lips. 

And  this  was  wrought  into  a  song. 

Yet  once  again  came  Love, 

And  pressed  her  lips  upon  his  heart. 

And  there  was  wrought  upon  that  heart 

Her  goddess  face, 

All  full  of  tenderness  and  grace. 

And  thus  did  love  by  stealth 

Woo  and  win  him  for  herself. 


20 


LOVE'S  SPIRIT-IMAGE 

Round  about  me  lurks  his  spirit, 

Playing  hide  and  seek 

'Mongst  the  rifts  of  thought. 

Now  I  pause,  and  there  his  image. 

Back  to  work, — 

It  sinks  in  darkness. 

There  again!  the  very  moment 

I  lose  hold  the  threads  of  tension, 

Hovering  round  in  wondrous  nearness, 

Pressing,  drawing,  and  caressing. 

Yet,  O  darling  lover  mine, 

When  I  reach  my  hands  to  hold  thee 

Close  unto  my  heart, 

Nothingness  I  clasp  unto  me! 

Pained  and  shamed  and  all  pride-riven, 

Foolish  I,  to  let  my  eager  senses 

Think  to  press  thee,  Spirit-lover, 

Close  against  this  red-blood  heart 

That  may  never,  never  fold  thee. 


21 


LOVE'S  PRIDE 

Will  you  go?    Then  go! 

I  hold  you  not. 

Can  you  spare  no  love? 

'Tis  well. 

I  would  have  it  not! 

But  my  heart,  my  heart  shall  weep. 

What  my  lips  deign  not  to  ask, 

O  proud  spirit! 


22 


LOVE'S  MESSAGE 
Would  I  send  the  impress  of  Love 
To  lips  I  ne'er  have  touched? 
Would  I  fold  in  close  embrace 
The  heart  that  might  recoil? 
Ah,  yes — and  more! 
For  Love  cannot  withhold  its  love. 
It  can  but  cast  it  forth, 
Though  fruitless  still  it  fall. 
But  do  the  lips  refuse? 
And  does  the  heart  recoil? 
Ah,  no,  not  so,  in  this  sweet  dream, 
Not  dreamed  in  sleep, 
But  fancy-woven  in  the  heart. 


23 


LOVE'S  KISS 

The  first  kiss — when  and  where? 

All  blessing  on  that  time, 

When  heaven  shall  descend 

And  take  the  hour, 

To  have  its  will,  to  have  its  way. 

No  eye  may  look, — but  angel-eyes! 

No  form  draw  near, — but  angel-forms ! 

To  bless  that  sacred  hour, 

When  soul  meets  soul 

At  the  gateway  of  the  lips. 


24 


AND  OTHER  VERSES 


LOVE'S  DREAM 

And  now,  sweet  sleep  , 

That  wrests  our  troubles  from  us 
For  so  brief  time, 
Fold  me  in  thine  arms. 
If  not  for  all — sweet  cruel  sleep, 
Then  for  a  space. 
The  dawn!  how  it  gilds  the  hills, 
How  it  floods  the  sky, 
How  it  makes  new  a  world — 
Young  and  fresh  and  beautiful, 
From  the  sable  night  and  the  land  of  dreams. 
Love — tender  child  of  Dawn, 
Roseate,  fair  and  sweet, — 
That  makes  new  a  life 
From  a  faded  day. 
I  wake,  and  O  the  joy! 
Come  I  not  forth 

Fresh  from  the  touch  of  his  circling  arms, 
Radiant  with  light  from  his  tender  eyes, 
And  drawn  by  that  smile 
As  the  tide  by  the  moon  is  drawn? 


25 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


This  all  in  dream — in  the  dawn's  first  glow, 

At  the  birds'  first  note. 

Sweet  dream !  faint  shadow  of  the  real. 

But,  ah,  the  real — how  can  I  know, 

If  yet  the  real 

Be  sweeter  than  the  dream? 


LOVE'S  TREMBLING  JOY 

O  them  day-star,  thou  night-star, 
Thou  blessed  lamp  of  life! 
O  if  I  should  lose  thee — 
God  cleave  the  dark 
And  reach  a  hand! 


25 

AND  OTHER  VERSES 
-4"      *^~ 

LOVE'S  DAY 

That  sweet,  sweet  day; — 

Let  it  live  again  in  mind. 

Here  lie  I,  where  he  lay, 

Pressing  this  friendly  grass, 

And  gazing  on  that  sky. 

Methinks  this  cold  earth  pulsates 

With  a  warmth  of  him, 

Whose  form  is  now  replaced  by  mine. 

I  mingle  in  his  being  thus, 

And  drink  the  sweets  he  drank, 

Of  air  and  sky  and  sound, 

On  that  delightful  morn, 

Now  so  changed, 

But  yet  the  same. 


27 


His  spirit  hovers  round  me ; — 

A  circling  zone  of  light: 

I  breathe  his  being, 

And  our  souls  spring  each  to  each. 

These  fair  new  blossoms  I  put  forth 

Are  not  mine — all; 

But  mine  and  his — sweet  flowers, 

Born  of  our  souls  in  Love's  pure  garden. 


LOVE  UNGATHERED 

The  last  rose  on  the  tree 

Has  shed  its  petals  at  my  feet. 

The  autumn  winds  have  blown  a  blast, 

And  summer's  gone. 

How  many  a  one  has  plucked  his  rose, 

And  worn  it  on  his  heart: 

While  mine  was  left  to  bloom  and  die, 

Its  sweets  ungathered. 

Now  Death  shall  be  my  rose, 

And  yield  me  perfume  sweet. 

I'll  have  no  fear  I'll  miss  my  flower, 

For  Death  blooms  in  the  winter. 


29 


LOVE'S  ASHES 
Heap  high  the  pile! 
Make  bright  the  flame! 
What  youth's  rose  colors 
In  that  flame! 
What  tears,  what  sighs, 
What  old  time  merriment! 
What  memories  tender, 
Clothed  in  youthful  prattle, — 
Youthful  ravings, 
Rainbow  colored,  in  that  flame — 
Incense  spreading  in  that  flame — 
Cold  and  gray  in  that  blue  smoke. 
But  from  the  heap 
Snatch  now  that  sheet 
O  haste!  for  there  is  yet  another, 
Perishing  with  the  rest. 
These  would  I  keep, 
For  they  are  sweet  to  me; 
Not  sweet  for  love  that  was, 
But  sweet  for  pain  that  was. 
What  pitiful  longings  unfulfilled, 
What  clinging,  tender  hopes, 

30 


Which  I,  the  strong, 

The  now  matured, 

The  tempered  in  the  fire, 

Hold  out  before  me 

To  witness  fade  and  die 

Yet  once  again. 

These  are  their  courses, 

Fair,  ah  fair! 

Lay  them  tenderly  away,  my  heart, 

Deep  in  thy  bosom! 

These  fair,  fair  courses 

Of  a  youthful  love. 


31 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  REFUSAL 

You  think  me  chary  of  my  kisses! 

I  cannot  tell  you  how 

My  kiss  is  born  of  love! 

To  press  your  lips  in  fond  embrace 

Is  Heaven's  eternal  seal! 

To  you,  'tis  but  a  pretty  fancy — 

A  fleeting  golden  moment, 

You  care  not  to  remember. 

Or  if,  perchance,  you  do  remember, 

'Tis  but  a  passing  thought  of  pleasure. 

Such  knowledge  chills 

The  tendrils  that  would  cling, 

And  makes  me  hold  from  you 

E'en  that  I  fain  would  give! 


32 


LOVE'S  WAITING 


To  wait!  to  wait! 
What  fate!  what  fate! 
How  drag  the  hours; 
How  sink  the  powers: 
A  god  might  sigh, 
Why  chide  my  cry? 
To  wait,  to  wait, 
What  fate,  what  fate! 
The  sweet  hopes  die 
As  days  go  by; 
The  eyes  in  tears, 
The  heart  in  fears; 
To  wait,  to  wait, 
What  fate,  what  fate ! 
Then  haste,  haste  on, 
Thou  look'd  for  one! 
Desire  of  soul  and  heart, 
So  long  we  part. 
Why  wait,  why  wait? 
Sad  fate,  sad  fate 
For  me,  for  thee 

33 


All  time  to  be! 

And  so  I  wait, 

Though  late,  though  late; 

And  how  I  pray 

For  thee  this  day! 


LOVE'S  COST 

Why  ever  looked  I  on  that  face, 

Whose  pure,  sweet  soul, 

Seen  from  those  eyes, 

Heard  from  those  lips, 

And  felt  through  that  majestic  presence, 

Shall  haunt  me  evermore? 

What  god  or  demon  willed  it  so: 

To  give  love  birth, 

Then  slip  pain  in  its  stead, 

And  add  immortal  life? 

Ah!  pain  unending: 

For  one  look  on  love 

How  dear  a  cost! 


34 


LOVE'S  PRANKS 

List!   Hark!   Stop  the  work! 

Love  is  at  the  door, 

Low  and  light  the  tap. 

If  I  ope  the  door, 

Will  he  enter  now, 

Or  but  look  and  listen  as  before, 

With  one  foot  upon  the  threshold; 

Till  the  heart,  all  o'erwrought, 

Leaves  her  work  unfinished, 

Gathering  dust, 

While  she  stands  forlorn, 

Sighing,  hoping,  and  entreating  Love 

To  enter  and  possess? 

But  Love  does  not  enter; 

But  Love  will  not  enter. 

To  thy  work,  O  heart  deceived — 

O  heart  enchanted. 

Love's  but  stealing  of  thy  sweets, 

As  the  thieving  bee 

Pausing  on  the  flower: 

He  to  other  flowers  will  go 


35 


Soon  enough,  soon  enough! 

'Tis  the  honey  that  he  wants, 

Not  the  flower! 

But,  O  troubled  watcher, 

Close  not  tight  thy  door; 

Yield  some  sweets  to  Love, 

While  he  lingers,  while  he  stays. 

If  he  will  not  enter, 

If  he  will  not  earnest  be, — 

Come  to  dwell  with  thee, 

Treat  him  as  he  treats; 

But  yield  not  thy  heart! 

That  too  sacred,  too  divine 

For  Love's  pastime! 

Keep  that  for  a  worthy  hour. 


36 


AND  OTHER  VERSES 


LOVE'S  DISCOVERY 

I  found  the  home  of  my  beloved, 

All  hid  in  vines  and  flowers, 

All  quiet  in  the  moonlight. 

'Twas  e'en  a  temple,  where  my  heart 

Bowed  from  afar  in  love  and  longing — 

A  temple  where  my  feet  might  never  enter. 

O  pain  delicious! 

To  worship  at  Love's  shrine, 

But  ne'er  that  love  possess. 

O  heaven  found:    O  heaven  lost! 

O  joy  of  joys! 

O  pain  of  pains! 


37 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  DAWN 

'Twas  in  Love's  dawn — the  tender  waking,- 

Love,  all  rose-colored,  stole  upon  me, 

And  stood,  a  smiling  goddess,  there. 

I  kissed  her  garment's  hem. 

Each  thing  she  touched, 

Each  thing  she  looked  upon, 

Was  wrought  into  an  altar, 

Where  my  heart  was  wont  to  worship. 

All  the  world  was  then  a  temple 

For  Love's  sake! 

A  sweet  fane  to  linger  in 

At  night,  at  morn, 

And  in  each  vagrant  hour, 

Caught  napping  by  the  way. 

And  then  one  only  song  I  sang, 

As  Time  sweet  wings  did  take: 

SONG 

All  the  world's  a  gala  day, 
And  the  heart  is  out  a-Maying; 
Sweet,  sweet  hours, 
Gathering  flowers 
For  to  lay  at  fair  Love's  feet. 

38 


When  was  ever  life  so  rich, 

When  was  ever  earth  so  sweet, 

As  these  hours 

Gathering  flowers 

For  to  lay  at  fair  Love's  feet? 


39 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  DESPAIR 

I  kiss  you  again,  again,  sweet, 

In  dreams,  in  waking  dreams, 

Be  you  alive,  or  be  you  dead, 

You  know  it  not,  sweet! 

Your  soul  is  not  of  my  soul, 

And  hence  no  bridge  can  ever  span 

The  gulf  that  lies  betwixt  us, 

Whereon  your  soul  might  cross  to  mine, 

And  feel  that  kiss,  and  know  that  love 

That  burns  for  naught,  for  naught,  sweet! 


LOVE'S  HOPE 

We  dwell  in  different  worlds,  sweet: 

You  cannot  come  to  me, 

But  when  your  soul  is  born 

Into  the  place  I  am, 

Then  joy  of  joys,  and  light  of  light, 

You  will  be  mine; 

And  all  the  worlds  will  then  rejoice 

At  joy  so  great! 

40 


LOVE'S  UNHEEDED  LANGUAGE 

"I  love  you,  I  love  you !" 

The  heart  o'er  running  speaks: 

"I  love  you,  I  love  you!" 

The  tell-tale  eyes  and  cheeks  repeat. 

"I  love  you,  I  love  you!" 

The  willing  hands,  and  ready  feet, 

And  thoughtful  mind  in  chorus  join. 

"You  see  it  not?   You  feel  it  not?" 

O  blessed  dullard  you! 


LOVE'S  PHANTOM  SORROW 

Dost  think  I  did  not  love  thee? 

O  that  these  tears  might  turn  to  flowers, 

These  sighs  breathe  forth  the  breath  of  spring, 

And  I  might  sink  in  this  great  sorrow, 

As  on  a  bed  of  roses 

Suffused  with  sweetness, 

Though  beset  with  thorns! 


41 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  JOY 

"He  loves  me,  he  loves  me!" 
The  joyous  heart  outbursts. 
"He  loves  me,  he  loves  me!" 
A  thousand  voices  echo  back 
From  sky  and  sea, 
From  wood  and  field; 
"He  loves  me,  he  loves  me!" 
From  bird  and  brook, 
From  home  and  street; 
"He  loves  me,  he  loves  me!" 
Until  no  sound  that  heart  can  hear 
From  any  voice  in  earth  or  sky, 
But — "He  loves  me,  he  loves  me!" 


42 


LOVE'S  EXPECTATION 

He  is  coming  to  me,  my  own! 

Night  breaketh  day  by  this  much  nearer: 

Day  breaketh  night  by  that  much  nearer: 

0  so  near! 

1  almost  feel  the  clasp  of  his  hand, 

I  almost  breathe  the  breath  of  his  breath, 
As  my  thoughts  rush  out  to  meet  him. 
O  queen  that  I  am, 
Though  I  see  no  crown, 
My  throne  here  already 
And  he  beside  me! 


43 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  EYES 

Two  eyes  I  see  in  the  mists  of  life; 
Two  eyes  I  feel — two  blue,  blue  eyes; 
Two  eyes  that  ruleth  me — 
Compel  my  thoughts  to  fly  to  thee, 

0  heart  of  mine,  far,  far  estranged ! 

1  know  not  when,  I  know  not  how. 
Thy  fortunes,  too,  I  know  not  of, 
Nor  where  thou  art, — 

All  hid  from  me,  all  veiled  in  dark: 

But  eyes  of  blue,  thou  eyes  of  blue, 

From  out  this  dark 

Thou  lookest  straight  at  me, 

And  movest  my  doubting  heart 

To  thoughts  of  my  lost  love, 

Lest  I  forget,  unconscious  to  myself. 

O  eyes  of  blue,  be  ever  such  a  light, 

To  light  me  to  thee,  heart  of  mine! 

That  my  whole  life 

May  flow  to  thee, 

In  thought  born  of  this  light, 

And  draw  thee  back  to  me. 


44 


LOVE'S  REMEMBRANCE 

For  thee  I  shall  plant  a  rose! 

And  wear  it  in  my  hair, 

Or  breathe  its  fragrance  from  my  bodice, 

Or  look  into  its  purest  purity 

From  a  vase  of  Attic  mold, 

While  I  muse,  or  while  I  work. 

In  morning  hours, 

Fresh  from  the  garden  cut, 

With  dew  upon  its  lips; 

Or  in  the  evening, 

With  the  lingering  blush  of  sunset  on  its 

cheeks, 

So  shall  it  be — this  rose, 
In  place  of  thy  sweet  presence 
Loved  and  lost! 
And  this  shall  be  our  secret! 


45 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  MEASURE 

My  love  no  measure  knew 

Until  by  chance,  one  day, 

My  thoughts  dwelt  on  a  jeweled  piece 

Hung  round  the  neck  of  my  beloved, 

That  boded  rivalry. 

It  thrust  my  heart — a  poinard  sharp ! 

And  dead  in  faint  it  fell. 

In  vain  all  efforts  made 

To  start  the  springs  of  life, 

For  still  my  heart  lies  prone, 

Lost  in  unconsciousness. 


46 


LOVE'S  PRESENCE 

His  presence  fills  this  place 

As  incense  sweet. 

This  street  he  walked! 

That  scene  he  looked  upon! 

Here  he  labored,  here  aspired, 

Here  tasted  joy  and  pain. 

There,  on  that  quiet  hill, 

The  grave  of  one  he  loved, 

Green  by  his  hand 

And  hallowed  by  his  tears ; 

At  the  turning  of  this  lane, 

Safe  lodged  his  heart 

In  the  resting  place  of  home ; 

And  round  that  home 

Twine  memories  dewed  with  joy 

And  memories  wet  with  tears : 

Fond  faces  looked  on  him, 

Whose  love  his  eyes  looked  back; 

Words,  gentle,  tender,  low, 

Were  spoken  from  loved  lips. 


47 


Now,  all  these  gone,  save  but  these  shells 

Of  house,  and  tree,  and  hedge,  and  road, 

And  he,  too,  gone  far  from  these  scenes! 

Ah,  gone?    How  false  that  word! 

How  art  thou  gone? 

I  see  thee  everywhere  I  turn, 

In  street,  in  shop;  by  wood,  and  stream 

I  feel  thy  presence  always  near, 

O  heart  most  dear,  most  dear! 


LOVE'S  LONGING 

Would  I  could  impart  my  soul 
Bare  of  all  words  to  you : — 
Words  that  confuse,  impede 
The  passage  of  the  thought  between. 

But  could  you  then  divine 
The  thought  I'd  have  you  share? 
You!  whom  words  have  given  no  hint 
Of  the  soul-play  underneath? 


48 


LOVE'S  WAY 

If  I  do  not  much  mistake, 

Love  chooses  a  perilous  way: 

In  truth,  she  holds  out  all  those  charms 

For  which  my  heart  has  longed: 

But  with  those  long-sought  joys 

Are  mingled  much  of  ominous  mien, 

The  which,  would  trouble  me, 

Persuade  my  discreet  mind, 

And  judgment  true, 

From  taking  Love  for  life; 

But  Love  so  confidant,  so  pressing, 

So  sweet,  so  all  entrancing,  says 

"Fear  not; 

If  thou  wilt  go  with  me, 

I  will  transform  these  all 

So  thou  wilt  see  them  not, 

But  only  me." 

Then  hesitate  not,  timid  heart, 

To  follow  Love's  request; 

There  wait  thee  all  thy  hopes 

If  thou  but  give  a  trustful  hand; 


49 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


No  trial  them  canst  not  withstand, 

No  sorrow  sink  beneath, 

No  labor  yet  too  hard  for  thee 

When  thou  in  Love  dost  rest; 

For  she  will  hold  thee,  she  will  fold  thee, 

In  her  tender  arms  of  strength, 

Invulnerable  to  things,  and  to  thyself! 


so 


AND  OTHER  VERSES 


LOVE'S  CHOICE 

Radiant  with  the  glow  of  the  west  upon  my 

face, 

Fresh  with  the  scent  of  poesy  upon  my  lips, 
Sad  with  the  world-cares  on  my  heart, 
The  pencil  moves  my  thoughts  to  light, 
From  their  dark  recess  in  the  mind: 
My  soul  confused  by  light  and  shadow, 
Rended  by  this  sweet  and  sadness, 
Breaks  forth  in  broken  song. 
Music  soft,  help  me  to  sing 
The  song  that  lieth  on  my  heart, 
To  gather  up  its  scattered  chords 
In  one  full  song  of  cheer, 
A  fitting  tribute  to  my  Love. 

SONG 

My  Love  shall  be  a  princess 

With  eyes  of  Heaven's  blue, 

And  cheeks  the  tint  of  a  tender  west; 

With  lips  made  fresh  by  rosy  spring 

That  wells  from  her  young  heart; 

Her  hair  of  silken  spider  threads, 


51 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


Kissed  by  the  lips  of  light, 

And  twined  in  many  a  wandering  curl. 

Her  form,  that  grace  and  sweetness  mixed, 

The  image  of  the  queen  to  be; 

A  voice  'twould  vie  with  Orpheus', 

To  call  the  trees  and  flowers; 

And  hands  and  feet  the  thrice  delight, 

And  thrice  despair  of  artist  eyes: 

All  these  shall  dress  my  princess 

Fit  for  her  princely  Lord. 

Then  from  within  a  voice  of  doubt; — 

"But  will  she  have  a  soul  more  fair 

Than  one  who  loves  thee  well, 

Whose  face  is  plain, 

Whose  form  no  goddess  fair  might  choose, 

But  of  that  soul, — what  words? 

Has  it  no  eyes  of  Heaven's  blue, 

And  cheeks  of  evening  sky : 

No  lips  made  fresh  by  rosy  spring, 

No  gold  spun  hair  to  nestle  in — 

Thine  eyes,  and  cheeks,  and  hungering  lips? 

No  form  of  queenly  grace, 

And  voice  of  bird  and  brook; 


52 


No  hands  and  feet  the  envy  of 

A  wandering  spirit  dropped  to  earth?" 

Wait,  wavering  heart,  be  quiet  now: 
Love  I  the  soul  more,  or  the  body? 
Then  let  me  choose. 


53 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  FEAR 

O  Love,  have  I  lost  your  hold? 

Is  it  dark  that  I  cannot  see  you? 

Am  I  dead  that  I  cannot  feel  you? 

Are  you  there,  Love? 

Press  my  hand  for  the  answer, 

Touch  my  lips  for  a  sign, 

So  I  shall  know  I  have  not  lost  you ! 

O  to  lose  you  would  be  death! 

Then  truest,  truest  Love, 

Closer  press  my  hand, 

Lay  your  lips  now  on  my  heart, 

So  its  beats  shall  feel 

Your  warm  kiss. — 

Now,  I  know,  Love,  you  are  there! 


54 


35 

AND  OTHER  VERSES 


LOVE'S  LATE  COMING 

Can  I  hope  at  the  gates  of  sunset 
To  gather  a  flower  of  dawn — 
Love,  pride  of  the  garden 
And  queen  of  all? 

Can  I  hope  to  gather  Love's  fruit, 
Apples  of  Life, 

Whose  taste  will  open  the  eyes  of  the  taster 
To  knowledge  of  joy? 

My  own  I  claim, — 
The  fruit  that  had  no  blossom; 
The  luscious  vintage  of  the  noon, 
And  of  the  western  sun. 

Fruit  of  day  without  a  dawn, 

Aurora's  beauteous  child  of  night, 

Twilight-countenanced, 

And  draped  in  clouds  of  gold, 

And  sunset  glory. 

O  voice  within,  O  voice  without, 
Raise  not  in  accent  'gainst  this  claim, — 
My  soul's  true  heritage. 

55 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


LOVE'S  DESPERATION 

Why  at  this  fearful  cost? — 

These  torturous  uncertainties ! 

These  heart  aches,  heart  breaks! 

Strivings  to  the  death! 

Is  there  so  much  of  worth  in  this  one? 

Are  there  not  others  full  as  fair? 

For  others  there  be  other, 

But  there  is  none  for  me, 

None  other  in  the  cycling  worlds — 

My  soul's  true  mate! 


56 


OTHER  VERSES 


THE  NEARING  MILESTONE 
YOUTH 

SHALL  weep  that  day 
Upon  the  neck  of  Youth, 
Who  now  has  turned  to 

view  herself, 
And  for  the  first  time  hides 

her  face. 
For  lo !  the  roses  withered 

and  the  color  fled, 
She  hastens  from  the  circle 

gay 

Of  nimble  feet,  and  song  and  dance, 
To  seek  a  spot  apart 
To  weep  alone. 

She  cannot  find  a  place 

Among  that  busy  throng, 

Who  long  have  cast  their  flowers  away, 

And  found  a  sweeter  recompense 

In  gratitude  won  from  a  suffering  world, 

To  whom  they  minister, — 

For  she  has  all  this  while 

Been  busy  with  her  roses. 

59 


She  cannot  join  the  crowd 

That  sit,  serene  and  well  content, 

Around  their  cheerful  hearths, 

Pressing  their  withered  flowers, 

And  sighing,  "True  they  die, 

But  others  here  more  sweet. 

Let's  bless  the  gods  of  Time 

Who  steal  the  sweet  but  leave  the  sweeter," — 

For  still  upon  her,  cling 

The  robes  of  maidenhood. 

She  cannot  join  that  shining  band 

That  say:    "Lo!  Youth,  how  empty,  how 

deceived, 

These  laurels  better  far 
Than  all  the  roses  Youth  has  worn," — 
For  in  her  hand  she  holds  no  crown. 

Alas !  where  must  she  go, — 

This  lorn,  unhappy  Youth? 

Her  once  spring-garments  faded; 

She  has  no  home  in  all  the  earth. 

Ah!  she  must  die!  unloved,  unsung! 

A  garland,  stranger,  for  her  bier ! 

A  tear,  O  world,  for  her  lone  grave! 

60 


AND  OTHER  VERSES 


LOVE 

I  shall  weep  that  day, 

Upon  the  neck  of  Love; — 

That  I  have  long  pursued 

In  pain  and  torture, 

Held  by  fascination  of  her  charms, 

As  one  who  chases  rainbows. 

I  shall  weep  because  we  part, 

For  I  have  called  her  from  afar, 

To  stay  her  steps  that  may  be  weary, 

From  fleeing  long  and  hard: 

"Return,  thou  oft  pursued, 

Thou  longed  for,  yearned  for,  all  in  vain; 

Fear  not!   I  will  not  harm  thee; 

I  will  no  more  pursue; 

Come,  give  thy  hand 

In  sad  farewell. 

But  let  me  weep  upon  thy  neck, 

In  one  long  fond  embrace: 

These  tears  have  e'en  a  balm 

To  sooth  this  heart  that  breaks, 

But,  ah,  can  break  no  more, 

Immune  forever  from  thy  charms." 

61 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


Thus  shall  I  weep  upon  thy  neck, 

On  that  sad  day, 

O  loved,  O  lost ! 

O  dearest  loss  of  all — 

On  that  sad  day, 

So  long  to  come,  so  feared, 

But  all  so  quickly  gone, 

For  other  days  of  toil  and  pain, 

And  ah,  perchance  of  joy, — 

A  joy  made  new, 

Of  different  mien, 

Unseen,  unknown,  unborn, 

To  that  sad  day. 

LIFE 

And  I  shall  weep  that  day, 
Upon  the  neck  of  Life, — 
So  poor,  so  all  in  rags, 
That  started  on  the  years 
With  gold  in  hand — 
Those  talents  lent  to  all, 
That  still  lie  in  the  hand, 
But  small  increased. 


62 


O  Life,  what  hast  thou  done 

With  all  these  years, 

That  thou  in  rags 

Must  still  be  clad, 

When  costly  garments  should  attire  thee, 

And  wealth  lie  in  thy  lap? 

O  Life,  we  shall  not  part: 
Would  that  these  tears 
Might  waken  thy  dry  heart, 
To  put  forth  verdure  fresh; 
That  lo !  the  years  to  come 
Might  reap  from  this  late  spring 
A  glorious  harvest  yet. 

O  Life,  let's  look  for  this! 

We  two  must  still  keep  on, 

When  these  have  gone  their  way. 

We  cannot  part, 

One  cannot  die  without  the  other. 

And  as  I  weep  upon  thy  neck, 

On  that  sad  day, 

My  fondest  wish,  these  acrid  tears 

Give  force  to  fill  the  unborn  years, 

Full  to  the  brim, 

With  winter's  fruit. 

63 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


"SOMETIME"  PICTURES 

These  "sometime"  pictures  that  come  and  go 

When  the  eyes  are  closed, 

And  the  mind  is  still, 

Ere  the  dream-land  folds  have  closed  it  in. 

Such  mountains,  and  skies,  and  plains, 

That  break  into  landscapes  fair, 

And  come  and  go  on  the  closed  lids, 

In  quick  panoramic  view! 

Such  pictures,  no  artist  ever  paints; 

Such  pictures,  no  poet  ever  dreams; 

Such  pictures,  no  eyes  have  seen  awake ! 

But  enough — you  know  not  what  I  mean, 

If  you  have  never  seen 

These  pictures  come  and  go, 

When  your  eyes  were  closed, 

And  your  mind  lay  quiet — though  awake, 

On  the  border-land  of  dream. 


64 


DEATH'S  TRANSFORMATION 

O  blessed  is  that  Death, 

That  brings  us  closer  yet  than  Life, 

As  the  years  slip  by ! 

That  cuts  all  branches  from  the  tree, 

But  the  limbs  of  Love, 

Until  the  tree  at  last 

Is  left  of  Love  entire. 


THE  TWO  TEMPLES 

At  the  parting  of  this  road, 

Two  temples  stand: 

Stern  duty  points  to  one, 

But  my  heart  is  with  the  other. 

I  go  where  duty  points. 

Still  my  heart  is  with  the  other. 

O  loved  hills,  and  trees,  and  skies! 

0  sacred  house  of  prayer! 

1  thank,  thee,  Father,  for  these  both, 
For  both  are  Thine. 


65 


THE  IDEALIST 

Past  twelve !  past  twelve ! 

The  hands  set  towards  the  West, 

And  day  declines. 

What  work  progressing?    Tools  about, 

And  the  workman  in  his  shop: 

What  pieces  done?    No  form  complete; 

But  the  Master  hopes  to  fashion, 

The  pieces  in  his  hand, 

Perfect  in  Truth  and  Beauty, 

Like  the  model  shining  before  him. 

This  is  his  dream; 

And  he  lives  in  his  dream, 

While  time  slips  away, 

Till  death  one  day 

Takes  hold  his  hand, 

And  the  dream  comes  true. 


66 


VOICELESS  HUMANITY 

Alas!  the  poor  mute  lips, 

That  cannot  speak  their  tale  of  woe : 

Fixed  like  stone,  without  a  voice, 

That  need  must  wait, 

Dumb  servitors  of  Fate, 

For  a  poet  to  give  them  voice! 

Some  tearful  Shelly 

Bemoaning  upon  the  shore, 

May  pour  his  voice  to  the  answering  waves; 

But  these  dumb  souls, 

With  woes  as  heavy, 

And  hearts  as  broken, 

Must  suffer,  standing  mute, 

Like  tearless  stone! 


67 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


THE  DEATH 

There  was  a  death  within  our  house, 

Last  night! 

O  how  you'd  laugh, 

If  I  should  tell; 

And  hold  your  hands 

In  mirthful,  mock  derision, 

At  one  so  puerilely  tender, 

To  call  it  death, — 

The  agonizing  of  a  mouse 

Caught  in  a  trap. 

Yet,  none  the  less,  'twas  death, 

Which  we,  too,  once  must  feel, 

And  pain  that  makes  us  thus  akin 

To  creatures  such  as  this, 

So  scorned,  that  pain  to  them,  or  death, 

Is  but  a  theme  for  cruel  sport. 

Ah,  Love!  art  so  perverted? 

Or,  are  there  different  loves, 

One  for  our  kind, — 

A  great,  broad,  royal  feeling, — 

And  one  for  creatures  such  as  this? 

68 


Then  Love  is  not  so  much  to  me: 

For  I  dream  higher  things  of  Love. 

I  would  believe  that  Love 

Is  all-enfolding,  all-heart-reaching, 

That  even  to  the  meanest  creature, 

It  bendeth  down 

In  tenderness  and  pity, 

To  feel  a  pain,  to  ease  a  wound, 

E'en  though  that  creature 

Were  an  insect, 

E'en  though  that  creature 

Were  a  noisome  pest. 

This  much  of  pity  is  its  right, 

If  Love  be  sent  of  God, 

If  Love  be  God. 


THE  VISION 

Keep  clear  thine  eye, 

Keep  true  thine  heart, 

Nor  faint,  nor  cease, 

Nor  slack  thy  patience: 

Then  in  a  moment, 

When  thou  thinkest  not, 

The  heavens  will  unfold, 

The  glory  will  descend, 

The  vision  will  appear; 

And  overcome  with  seraph  joy, 

Thou  then  shall  faint, 

Thou  then  shall  fall, 

But  Gratitude  shall  wake  unconsciousness, 

And  Love  shall  lift  thee  to  thy  feet. 


70 


THE  NEW  DAY 

As  I  open  my  eyes, 

Day  stares  at  me, 

And  Night  with  a  beckoning  hand: 

"I  relieved  thee  these  long  hours, 

And  took  thee  to  my  land  of  dream, 

To  wander  free 

And  rest  thy  labored  limbs. 

Take  up  the  burden  now  again, 

And  travel  this  new  day, — 

So  like  that  yesterday: 

But  ah!  perchance  so  changed, 

Yea,  thou  thyself  art  changed, 

For  I  have  made  thee  all  anew — 

Have  woven  with  my  spell, 

All  past  experience  and  knowledge, 

Into  a  fabric  different, 

So  that,  a  stranger  to  thyself, 

Thou  goest  forth 

With  each  new  day. 

Knowst  thou  what  dost  await  thee 

In  this  day? 

No  signs  forewarn  thee,  good  or  ill, 

71 


In  that  bright  sun, 

That  blazes  through  thy  window; 

Or  in  those  boisterous  shouts 

Of  roused  rejoicing  life. 

Thou  livest  to  the  direst  ill, 

But  all  unconscious; 

As  moves  the  unwarned  train, 

Upon  the  yawning  gulf. 

Thou  stumblest  unawares 

On  richest  opportunity, 

As  on  a  hidden  treasure. 

Look  not  for  either, 

In  this  day, 

But  take  thou  hold  the  wheels  of  toil, 

Content,  if  only,  at  my  call, 

Thou  hast  persisted  hard, 

And  earned  thy  hours  of  rest, 

Which  I  have  given  thee, 

And  still  will  give  again. 

'Tis  heaven's  portion  to  the  just  and  unjust, 

But  sweeter  to  the  just. 

List!  now  the  wheels  of  toil  are  creaking, 

The  air  resounds  with  labor. 


72 


Stay  thou  not  longer  here 
With  Night's  receding  spirit, 
But  to  thy  work!" 


LITTLE  BROWN  TOADSTOOLS 

Sweet  little  brown  toadstools, 

Huddled  all  in  a  heap ; 

Nine  bonny  caps, 

Just  pushed  from  the  rain-softened  mould. 

This  picture  I  caught, 

In  one  rapid  glance, 

And  held,  as  I  hurried  along, 

While  the  soul  of  their  soul 

Went  into  my  soul, 

And  breathed  forth  a  gladness  there; 

And  I  felt  more  akin, 

In  a  new  subtle  way, 

To  the  great  loving  heart  of  Nature, 

And  I  fain  had  caressed 

Those  nine  bonny  heads, 

That  nestled  so  jauntily  there, 

On  the  lap  of  their  warm  earth-mother. 

73 

10 


ACHIEVE 

Achieve!  achieve!  O  soul,  thine  own, 

God  on  His  throne  is  keeping  it 

Close  in  his  hand  for  thee. 

Reach  forth  and  take, 

Nor  Fate,  nor  Death,  nor  worlds, 

Can  wrest  it  from  thee; 

For  He  holds  it. — 

Thine  own  eternal  portion, 

Bequeathed  that  day  He  did  beget  thee, 

And  waiting,  waiting, 

E'en  though  for  eons, 

For  thy  claim. 

Why  then  a  world  between, 
Why  then  the  flight  of  ages? 
This  day  thy  right  possess, 
This  day  achieve, 
O  soul,  thine  own! 


74 


THE  RAIN 

Methought — my  mind  absorbed  in  dreams — 
It  was  a  drum  I  heard. 
'Twas  but  the  rain, 
Tattooing  on  the  window-pane. 

The  gushing  rain,  pell-mell  it  fell 
Upon  the  roof's  decline, 
With  here  a  drop,  and  there  a  drip, 
Down  from  the  house's  eaves. 

The  poor  grass  laughed, 

And  reached  its  head; 

The  flowers  spread  wide  their  cups. 

Ah !  laughter  was  heard  in  the  farmer's  heart, 

Its  ripples  touched  his  face, 

And  the  whole  great  world  of  Nature  round, 

Echoed  back  the  sound, 

Of  the  drip,  drop,  on  the  house's  eaves, 

The  drum  on  the  window  pane. 


75 


THE  CAPTIVE  BIRD 

A  prisoner  he, 
In  that  tiny  cage ; 
His  song  the  color 
Of  his  lonely  heart — 
Sad  chirps,  low  trills, 
His  birdling  sighs. 

Yet  sometimes  he  forgets  his  grief, 
And  warbles  forth  a  note  of  cheer, — 
A  love  song  round  and  full, 
To  a  mate  he  feigns  to  see; 
Each  atom  of  his  little  being, 
Vibrates  with  his  birdling's  soul, 
Quivering  like  a  wind-touched  palm; 
While  the  music  bubbles  forth. 
But  soon,  the  rapturous  flood  of  love 
Falls  back  to  lonely  chirps, 
And  the  tiny  frame 
Shrinks  tinier  in  loneliness. 


76 


OUTWARD  BOUND 

Give  me  a  ship— a  big  ship ! 

I  go  upon  the  seas; 

Be  thou  my  captain, 

Maker  of  the  worlds. 

The  seas  I  do  not  know, 

Nor  of  that  bourn  I  would  arrive, 

Destined  of  thee, 

E'er  the  worlds  were  formed. 

Farewell,  this  land-bound  harbor! 

Farewell,  these  placid  waters ! 

The  ocean  calls,  the  ocean  calls. 

Haste,  loose  the  anchor, 

And  away,  away, 

To  the  unknown  waves, 

To  the  unknown  winds, 

And  the  unknown  shores  beyond. 


77 


jd^j&gs^g&F^afeg^^ 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


THE  CENTURY  PLANT 

The  time  of  fruiting  has  arrived! 

I  must  put  forth 

In  one  year  what  I  strove  in  ten: 

In  one  quick  growth, 

The  measure  of  a  life: — 

The  long,  the  dull,  the  tedious  many, 

The  strong,  the  rapid,  glorious  few. 

Without  the  first  what  then  the  last? 

Without  the  last,  why  then  the  first? 

Come  air,  and  sky,  and  earth,  and  all, 

And  yield  a  willing  aid, 

For  this  last  growth — this  bloom, — 

My  life — my  death! 


78 


So  quiet  and  so  comfortable, 
Whom  ambition  stirs  no  more: 
Who  watch  the  years'  procession  pass, 
As  they  who  dally  at  the  river's  brink, 
Gazing  at  the  purling  waters  move 
Onward  towards  the  great  sea's  bourn? 

Gone  the  glowing  flowers  of  youth ! 
Lost  the  blush  from  off  the  grape! 
Stolen  the  sweet  from  out  the  honey ! 
Subdued  they  walk  beneath  the  stars, 
No  hands  outstretched. 

Lo!  these  are  they — with  vision  lost, — 
Whom  Nature's  anaesthesia  has  o'erpowered: 
They  breathe  it  in  with  deeper  breath 
At  each  new  milestone's  turn, 
Nor  fight  the  death-fraught  power, 
Content  to  sleep  the  years  away, 
Content  to  lose  their  crown! 


79 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


Shall  I,  too,  be  overcome, 

And  let  my  birthright 

Gently  loosen  from  my  hand? 

Ye  gods  forbid! 

Infuse  into  my  veins  immortal  youth, 

And  rouse  the  dead'ning  sense, 

By  soul-awakening  pangs  of  hunger: 

This  continue  till  full-ripened  life 

Drops  from  the  stem. 

BEAUTY 

A  boon,  I  ask, 

O  loved  All-Father! 

Beauty  in  all  things  to  see, 

(So  must  the  eyes  of  poets  be) ; 

Beauty  in  all  things  to  feel, 

(So  must  the  hearts  of  poets  be)  ; 

No  thing  too  small, 

Too  common  or  despised, 

To  yield  its  world  to  beauty, 

And  fill  the  heart,  day  piled  on  day, 

More  full  of  thee, — God, — 

One  with  Beauty. 

so 


AND  OTHER  VERSES 

11 -^•^r  ^^^^^^ 

THE  POET'S  CHILD 

I  needs  must  let  you  go, 

Strange,  unfathomed  child, 

Form  and  likeness  of  my  soul, 

Prayed  for,  brooded  on,  and  wept  o'er! 

Child  of  anguish  and  of  toil, 

Child  of  love  and  hope, 

Aye,  scorned  at  times  and  hated! 

I  lose  you  from  my  heart  at  last, 

To  wander  in  a  stranger  world! 

I  cannot  analyze  nor  understand  you, 

Child  of  mine, 

More,  mayhap,  than  they  who  meet  you! 

If  perchance  your  image 

May  be  like  unto  their  own, 

Some  comfort  may  be  theirs, 

In  sympathy  and  companionship. 

If  not,  you  still  must  stand, 

My  own  true  child, 

Unfathomed  but  by  God! 

Who  knows  with  what  heart  tremblings 
I  now  release  your  hand; 
I,  who  all  these  years, 

81 

11 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


Have  held  you  here, 
Secreted  near  my  heart, 
Part  of  me — mine  own  self, — 
Life  of  my  life, 
Breath  of  my  breath. 

I  cannot  longer  hold  you, 

Else  you  may  perish  in  my  grasp 

For  other  lives  to  live  in, 

To  grow,  increase,  be  part  of  them. 

I  now  unclasp  you  from  my  heart, 

My  own  soul's  likeness, 

Living  by  this  breath  from  me! 

Go  forth  and  live  your  life, 

For  I  to  fuller  life  must  haste, 

To  breathe  forth  others  such  as  thou. 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD  AND  THE 
CRICKET 

A  night  like  this  the  mocking  bird, 
Full  drunk  with  love's  red  wine, 
Had  flooded  all  the  moonlit  vale 
With  the  boisterous  voice  of  spring. 

Now  silent  is  that  voice, 
Gone  with  the  spring,  the  joy; 
But  from  his  grassy  tent, 
The  cricket  cometh  forth. 

How  soothing  is  his  level  chirp, 
That  lies  along  the  earth, 
Nor  ever  seeks  to  soar 
Above  his  leafy  bower. 

He  thrills  me  not,  nor  lifts  me 
Heavenward,  to  wing  among  the  stars, 
And  revel  in  those  wild  delights, 
A  feast  for  gods. 

But  chirping  cheerily  through  the  night, 
Over  and  over,  his  one  song, 


83 


Keyed  to  one  droning  note, 
As  a  viol  of  a  single  string. 

Drowsiness  soft  benumbs  the  sense, 
The  moonlit  earth  fades  out  of  view, 
And  heavy  slumber  closes  down 
Upon  the  world  of  sight  and  sound. 

O  happy,  cheery,  humdrum  cricket, 
Thou  fellow  of  the  earth, 
For  tired  out  limbs  and  minds  contented, 
Thou  makest  music  in  thyself. 

But  thou,  O  bird  of  heaven  and  cloud, 

That  casts  in  wantonness  about 

Thy  frenzied  gladness ! 

For  poets  wast  thou  fashioned, 

That  their  tired  souls, 

Held  long  in  tensest  strain 

By  life's  tight  cords, 

Might  thus  relax, 

In  exercise  of  joy. 


DREAM 

'Twas  only  a  dream, 

Such  a  beautiful  dream, 

Sacred  to  him  and  me; 

He  of  a  world  unknown, 

Yet  I  loved  him  in  this  dream. 

But  even  in  dream, 

A  shadow  fell 

O'er  him  and  me, 

On  the  very  hour  of  joy, 

To  filch  it  of  its  sweet. 

But  I  said,   Let  fall, 

'Tis  ever  so.    Let's  love 

And  gather  joy, 

Though  it  only  last  a  day. 

Let's  drink, 

Though  it  only  be  a  sup, 

And  live  all  life  in  this  moment, 

Full  knowing  that  crafty  Death 

Will  claim  as  his  share  the  rest. 

But,  crafty  Death, 

Thou  art  somewhat  riven 

85 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


Of  thy  black  glory, 

For  thy  ebon  wings 

Are  edged  with  light, 

The  light  of  this  one  moment's  bliss." 

We  drank, 

And  lived  all  life  in  that  moment! 

And  gathered  all  bliss  at  a  sup ! 

In  this  dream, 

This  beautiful  dream. 

So,  even  in  dream, 

Love  may  still  live  on 

Its  sweet,  though  partial  life, 

Hot  chased  by  pain, 

To  glean  what  joy  must  lose 

(The  greater  share). 

Soul  looks  on  soul, 

That  deathless  look, 

Then  parts,  nor  looks  again. 

But  O  sweet  dream, 

I  keep  you  back, 

And  am  loth  to  let  you  fade 


86 


AND  OTHER  VERSES 


Into  the  hosts  of  other  dreams, 

Forgotten  long  ago! 

For  you  hold  me  by  your  spell, 

In  that  one  moment's  bliss, 

That  reaches  from  dream  unto  waking, 

That  reaches  from  night  unto  light, 

And  shines  as  a  star  of  the  day. 


THE  COMING  EVENT 

Then,  it  was  a  month  between, 

And  then  a  week, 

And  now  a  day: 

And  soon  an  hour  'twill  be. 

And  O,  the  very  moment  follows  on! 

What  if  this  thing  were  Death, 

And  Heaven  so  near, 

Would  I  be  fearful  of  the  moment's  brink? 


87 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


THINE  ARMOR 

To  work!  O  youth, 

In  thine  own  armor  clad, 

And  strike  thou  to  the  death! 

Assay  not  to  adopt 

A  ready  armor  to  thy  hand, 

For  ease,  or  gain,  or  time, 

Or  seeming  best  convenience. 

'Twill  play  thee  false ! 

Then  choose — and  wisely, — 

Thy  God-appointed  armor. 

This  only  can  develop  thee, — 

Thy  brain's  true  brawn, — 

Thy  soul's  true  steel, — 

This  only  gives  thy  hand  its  surest  cut, 

This  only  makes  thee  feel  within 

The  rising  God, 

Strong-sheathed  to  conquer  all. 

No  David  in  Saul's  armor, 

May  fell  the  coming  foe! 

For  Fear,  thy  archest  enemy, 

Lies  hid  in  every  fold 

Of  borrowed  armor, 

88 


To  strike  thee  from  within, 

Before  thou  strikst  without. 

Then  up,  O  budding  hero,  to  thy  work, 

And  in  thy  God-appointed  armor! 


A  PASSING  BREEZE 

Soft  a  breeze  comes  down  this  way, 

How  the  poppies  hold  their  hats, 

How  the  eucalypti  bow, 

How  each  pepper-leaf  salutes, 

Each  its  partner  now. 

How  ashamed  the  grasses  totter, 

In  uncertain  poise; 

What  a  shiver  in  the  palms, 

What  a  turning  up  of  capes 

In  the  clover  lawn. 

O  you  naughty  breeze, 

Such  a  havoc  and  a  stir 

You  have  made  in  leaf  and  blade, 

By  your  sudden  sally 

Down  our  quiet  way. 

89 

12 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


GRATITUDE 

I  thank  thee,  Father, 

For  that  little  sweet; 

'Twas  like  a  fresh  spring  draught 

To  parched  lips. 

'Twas  like  a  soft  cool  touch 

To  a  burning  brow. 

'Twas  like  a  moment's  pause 

In  hours  of  pain. 

That  little  sweet,  to  think  on, 

That  little  sweet,  to  dream  on, 

More,  more,  to  this  starved  heart 

Than  ten-times-ten  that,  to  the  full! 

O  sw,eet,  sweet,  tender  thing  of  joy, 

Thou  savest  me  from  Death! 


90 


JP 

AND  OTHER  VERSES 


THE  REALMS  OF  SPIRIT 

Youth,  youth  and  roses  stay, 

Stay  in  the  soul  and  keep  me  young! 

Young  to  think  with  the  youngest  mind, 

Young  to  feel  with  youngest  heart, 

Young  to  walk  with  the  youngest  feet, 

That  lead  the  way, 

To  regions  unexplored, 

To  worlds  ahead; 

Worlds  more  vast, 

Than  lay  before  Columbus'  gaze ; 

Worlds  whose  shores 

Stretch  onward  to  infinity. 

When  all  the  soil  of  earth 

Has  felt  the  tread  of  man, 

The  highest  point  been  scaled  by  him, 

The  deepest  depth  by  him  descended, 

The  farthest  spot  his  common  ground, 

Still  shall  he  look  for  worlds, 

Worlds  more  vast,  to  conquer! 

Then  to  his  inner  eye, 

Shall  loom  those  regions  vast, 


91 


IN  LOVE'S  GARDEN 


Unconquered,  unexplored, 
And  he  shall  rise  unto  the  task, 
Shall  rise  and  conquer. 


THE  INWARD  URGE 

The  skies  are  brass ! 

The  gods  have  turned  to  stone ! 

This  clay  has  played  me  false! 

The  will,  shame-faced, 

A  coward,  slinks  away. 

Rigidity  sets  in, 

As  one  gripped  in  the  vise  of  death ; 

And  yet,  I  may  not  pause, 

But  on,  and  on,  and  on! 

A  force  within  crowds  up  this  cumb'rous  mass 

To  reach  its  God-appointed  complement. 

I  move,  I  still  reach  out, 

As  a  weakling  blade  of  grass, 

Strong  from  a  force  within, 

Pushes  forth  for  light! 


92 


MAN'S  GOD-LIKE  GIFT 

One  thought  the  high  born  race  of  gods,- 

Who  walk  in  pain  this  mortal  world — 

Have  left  for  solace. 

O  glorious  scorn !  They  can  refuse ! 

Fate  may  snatch  from  out  their  grasp, 

All  things  they  would; 

But  O,  delusive  Fate, 

Have  they  not  looked  on  heaven 

E'er  ever  the  worlds  were  born? 

The  cheap  earth  substitutes 

Thrust  in  their  eyes, 

They  can  refuse;  and  still  have  strength 

To  walk  in  god-like  solitude  their  way. 


93 


ONE  VENTURE 

I've  ventured  all  in  one  argosy! 

If  the  winds  blow  foul, 

Then  all  is  lost,  save  this : 

To  be  called  a  fool  by  the  hard-eyed  world, 

That  counts  not  the  courage  of  the  venture, 

Nor  yields  aught  to  him 

Whose  Argosy  fails  its  harbor. 

But  be  it  a  fool  then,-— or  a  god; 

(It  cannot  fail  of  one). 

The  true  heart  can  but  venture 

His  all  in  a  noble  cause, 

Else  his  conscience  brands  him  fool  within ; 

Or,  losing — the  world  brands  him  fool  without. 

The  winds  of  Fortune 

Who  can  determine? 

The  venture  alone  is  sure! 

The  highest  reward  is  that! 

E'er  ever  the  vessel  moves ; 

For  God  counts  the  venture, 

While  man  counts  the  gain  of  the  venture. 


Yet  sweet  to  him  who  has  ventured 

Is  the  ladened  vessel's  return — 

The  visible  winnings  of  labor — 

Though  it  count  not  with  God ; 

Though  he  care  not  the  count  of  man — 

Yet  sweet  to  himself, 

The  success  of  his  dear-bought  venture, 

That  cost  him  a  world, 

Though  that  world  be  a  bauble! 


95 


The  writing  of  this  book 
was  done  by  Ida  Frances 
Anderson.  The  designs  of 
the  headings  were  by  Alma 
Cock,  the  typographical  ar 
rangement  by  Charles  H. 
Smith,  and  the  presswork 
by  Arthur  1J.  Jason.  The 
book  as  a  whole  was  de 
signed  and  made  by  George 
Wharton  James  at  the  Ar 
royo  Guild  Press,  201  Avenue 
Sixty-six  (Garvanza),  Los 
Angeles,  California,  in  the 
year  of  grace,  1909. 


THE  LIBRARY 

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